The Railway
by Bloody Rot
Summary: The adventures of a little vampire prince named Will.
1. Papa's Boy

**A/N:** Angel sired Spike…in my little fantasy world. And this is what it looked like when it happened. And yes, there are so many Angelus/William stories out there just like this, but I had to have a go at it. Read and review.

**The Railway**

* * *

"Are you afraid?"

The breathy whisper of the darkness tickled the young poet's ear. He tried not to move, not to whimper, not to flinch as the heavy weight settled onto his back, a dead hand holding his face down to the damp cobblestone of the London alley.

_I _**am**_ afraid!_ William wanted to scream. _Very afraid._

And he wanted to buck up and throw the shadow off of him, shouting through the still streets until he made it home to Mother. He was afraid. Very afraid.

"You're tremblin', m'boy," Death said kindly. "No worries, now." The weight lifted and two strong hands smartly flipped him onto his back, forcing William to look his killer in the eye.

"P-please, sir…"

Death wore a handsome face and a tender smile. It had cold, clever hands that tore at the boy's shirt and scratched his soft skin; and a wicked tongue that flicked over his eyelids like faery dust. Will shook violently, finding himself rendered immobile and wondering what Mother would say if she ever knew - knew that her sweet virgin son had his legs splayed wide open for the devil.

"You can be my Prince." The chilling lips pressed down on Will's mouth and the night soon found him tongue-entangled, aroused like a flower in the spring sun. "If you will only let me in." Teeth scraped gently across his neck as a cunning hand undid the fastenings on his trousers and set to work.

Will was the hare caught between the strong jaws of a hunting hound – torn open, yet awake and feeling the pain, longing to let darkness close in.

"It's a cold winter night, isn't it?" Tall, elegant, and dark as sin was his sire. Will would always remember how it snowed when he first felt Angelus's fangs rip into his throat, and how relieved and spent and limp his body hung afterwards.

* * *

_Three months later…_

A satisfying crack was heard as his head collided with the brick wall that separated the pub from the dingy alleyway. A large, blubbery beast of a man swung the broken chair leg with conviction, dead set on teaching the ornery, drunken youth that fondling _his_ wench's breasts could only end one way.

Will shook his head, and quickly dodged the proceeding blow. It was raining that night; hard, huge droplets pounded down onto his head, drenching his long hair.

"Please, sir," he droned. "I'm just a poor boy and my Papa never taught me any manners." He leapt to his feet with a grin, running a hand through his wet hair. "There's blood on my head, sir. Blood on my head."

"There'll be a hella lot more blood when 'm done with yeh, boy," the man growled.

"It's not nice to hit people, sir," Will chided, taking a smart step back before the next befuddled swing connected with his side. "Especially when they're younger and smaller than you yourself are." He eluded the makeshift bat once more, feinting to the left, against the wall.

"What's this then?" the man sounded even more annoyed. "Yeh go aroun' sayin' that yer Da never taught yeh any manners and then yeh rattle off etiquette while 'm tryin' to beat yeh? Let's see how well yeh can talk when yeh've lost all yer teeth."

Another swipe of the wood, but Will didn't bother trying to avoid it this time. It never reached him.

"My Papa never taught me any manners, sir," the young vampire repeated with a cheeky grin. "Let's see what he can do about you." William watched with glee as his sire gracefully removed the wooden weapon from the butterball's hand and shoved it in his mouth, creating a sufficient gag. His grin grew as Angelus tugged back on the ends of the stick, tearing at the corners of the brute's mouth and grinding against the rotting teeth.

"Would you like a bite, my darling boy?" Angelus asked. William felt his skin crawl at the tone – the soft, menacing disapproval tipping his sire's tongue surely meant he would catch it when they got home.

As it were, he stood straighter and stuck his chin out. "Bite that? He's greasy and slimy and disgusting, Angelu-" he stopped short at his elder's growl. "Sire. Bet his blood's fattening." He dropped his eyes at the hard look.

"I suppose you're right, William. He is rather outlandishly ugly, isn't he?" Angelus sighed, slicing the man's cheek with a sharp nail and sneering in disgust at the blood that dribbled down the three chins. "Simply appalling."

Will cocked his head curiously. "What are you going to do with him then, Sire?"

Angelus answered his question with a quick twist of the wrist, sharply snapping the swine's neck. Will watched as his sire took out his favorite handkerchief and thoroughly cleaned his fingers, a disconcerted look on his face at the thought of having touched the wet piggish corpse that lay in the puddles of the dirty alley.

"Brilliant," William smiled brightly. "What now?"

He didn't even see Angelus move, just felt that large, cold hand firmly clamp onto the scruff of his neck.

"Now you explain your disobedience, William, and I think about how I'm going to punish you."

"But I'm your Prince, Sire," the boy returned with a dazzling smile and coy batting of his eyelashes. "Remember?" He sighed with relief as his neck was released from the hold…then yelped at the overpowering blow that followed, sending him back against the wall.

"Yes, you're my Prince," Angelus said thoughtfully as Will sorely brought himself back to his feet. "Perhaps I've been spoiling you."

"But you haven't!" Will protested a bit too quickly. "You just gave me a beating yesterday!" He attempted to back away as his sire advanced on him, but only succeeding in pressing himself against the damp bricks.

"And maybe you're just asking for another."

"I'm not, Sire! I'm not!"

William closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable fist in his face. In his first month as a vampire, beatings had been rare occurrences. However, as the long, sluggish days bled on, the easily bored fledgling obtained a passion for mischief – much to the displeasure of his sire. That's when beatings became daily activities. Angelus sometimes said that he would have to start scheduling them at a set time and William would pout at how clear it was that his sire was only half-joking.

And as luck would have it, the only contact that came then, in the dank alley behind the filthy pub was a long, lingering kiss and Angelus's quick, smooth hands faintly running along his childe's body. Will groaned and arched into the touch, allowing himself to be absorbed in the gentle lips and the possessive tongue, the grabby hands caressing him in all the right places.

"Urgh," Angelus grunted, pulling away as quickly as he'd come on. Will pouted.

"What is it?" Then followed his sire's gaze to the obese body, which had wide, empty eyes staring in their general direction. "He's dead. What of it?" Will stood on his toes and reached for his sire's mouth again, only to be pushed away and pulled back, a strong arm encircled around his waist, holding him still.

"Siiire."

"Hush, William."

Will sulked, rubbing himself slightly against Angelus's leg, eyes pinned on the corpse to see what had the old man all riled up.

A rat scampered out from beneath the heavy carcass.

"Disgusting."

"Sire, it's just a rat…"

"It's filthy vermin, boy. I refuse to touch you in an alley filled with filthy vermin."

"You're mental, that's what you are," Will told him, then looked down when his sire gave him the all-too-common reprimanding respect-your-elders-or-I'll-skin-your-hide look. Angelus frowned. "What?"

"Your face, boy…"

"What about it?"

The handkerchief came out again, this time to roughly assault his cheeks and nose. "It's damn well filthy." Will groaned and tried to move away, but to no avail. "And what's this about me not teaching you any manners? I teach you plenty of manners."

"Yes, Sire."

"And while we're on the subject of manners, we'd probably do well to get back to the matter of you leaving the house when I expressly told you not to."

"Yes, Sire."

"You left your sister all by herself."

"She was talking to her dolls again," Will scowled, then added, "Sire" as an afterthought.

"She said you promised to play with her," Angelus frowned and paused to spit on the handkerchief to remove a particularly trying area of dirt. "You could have at least put effort forth."

"I suppose, Sire."

A slap across the face.

"Don't take that impertinent tone with me, boy."

"No, Sire." The boy treated him to a cheeky grin. "Never again, Sire."

Forgetting momentarily about staying on the subject of manners, the elder vampire caught William's lips in a vicious kiss, shoving his tongue deep down his childe's throat, cupping the boy's pert bum with a knowing hand. Will clambered, grinding against his sire's body, pleading for more.

"Oi, 'Arry! Looks like we have some arsebangers over here."

The two vampires kept on for a few more moments, then released reluctantly with small smiles.

"Are you hungry, darling?" Angelus purred. "Shall Papa feed you?"

Will nodded his head vigorously, clapping in childish delight as his clean sire, dark and dashing, made a big bloody mess.


	2. The Owls Have Landed

**A/N:** I felt like writing more to this. And I noticed there was one hopeful review for this to continue and that just tugged at my heartstrings. There'll be more of this as I started writing this other chapter to it, but I decided it needed a chapter before it, thus this was created. Though there's not really a sequence and there's not really a plot. Maybe one will form in time.

****

**The Railway**

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Empty spaces chilled him to the bones and he shook and trembled, and his body was so little and so lithe that the others imagined that they could hear his innards rattle against his skin. The walls had been whitewashed, but the family decided to take a few artistic liberties, wearing smug, satisfied smiles as Drusilla's little hand composed crimson stars all in a row. When praised, little Will managed a toothy grin, and playfully kicked the carcass of the vacant-eyed eldest daughter. He'd raped her, viciously impaled her tight little celibate cunt until she was too desensitized to the pain and terror to scream. She didn't even whimper when she watched with wide-eyes - didn't mew, didn't even shiver – as Angelus ripped off all of her mother's clothes with no actual intent of defiling her. Looking at the woman's mutilated corpse presently, William wondered exactly how much it hurt – to feel that blunt butter knife jammed through your skull so slowly, creeping in and in, but never quite in enough to just kill you. It was her blood with which Drusilla was using to write on the walls.

"Are you alright, Prince Will?" Angelus sang. The boy sucked in air as he felt the fangs skid along and scrape his neck, jumped slightly when the large, cold hand found the naughty treasure between his legs. "I can't have my boy looking so distraught."

Will lifted himself into his sire's persistent rubbing for more than a moment, then pulled away and toed the mother's still bleeding body, nudging it onto its side. He cocked his head in interest at the two telltale lacerations marring her neck.

"She tasted of disease," Angelus answered his unasked question. "Bitter and mucky and loathsome. It doesn't sit well in the stomach if you drink from the slovenly."

Will nodded and melted back into his sire's chest, glancing around the lifeless room. Gory. Diseased.

The vaporous scents of sex clung heavily to the air and Will tried not to sniff, but realized quickly that it was worse to taste it. He also tried to ignore his own budding arousal, which was being briskly worked up by his sire's clever ministrations, but like all else, that proved fruitless as well.

"What's wrong, sweetness?" his sire asked, in between planting gentle kisses along his neck. "You're being very withdrawn."

Will grumbled something unintelligible beneath his breath, not really knowing what was wrong; not really wanting to talk; too busy to think.

"The stars, Daddy," Drusilla hummed as she drifted over. At Angelus's acknowledgement she waggled her dainty blood-soaked fingers in the air with a dreamy smile. "The stars," she said again.

"What about the stars, precious?" Angelus asked, returning the majority of his attention to his unusually quiet fledgling. "Do they have something important to say?"

"They scream loud and long," Dru frowned and arced an eyebrow. "One has lost his voice and has stolen all of the cakes in the sky." She shot Will a pointed look and was graced with a smirk and a show of the boy grabbing and rubbing and grinding and touching for all he was worth. Will knew that Dru didn't like all the attention he received that she didn't, and would purposefully try to take more in the seemingly long daylight hours that Angelus spent next to his loony little princess. He'd crawl into bed between them after they'd finished ravishing and loll himself into the curve of his sire's body, smiling at his 'sister' all the while. What Dru hated most of all was that Angelus never scolded or ordered his new little urchin out of the room, simply draped his large body over the smaller one and dozed off like a large, sleepy lion.

At Angelus's lack of concern, Drusilla sighed softly.

"I'm the Princess."

"I'm the Prince," Will moaned, reaching into the hands entangled in his hair.

"I'm the King," Angelus interjected, and Will was shoved onto his back onto the blood-soaked wood of the floor. The boy obediently opened his legs, waiting to be mounted; sure it was to come any second, any minute now... "Drusilla, entertain your brother."

Thwarted.

"But, Daddy," Dru protested, swaying from foot to foot. "Little William makes indecent noises." She frowned at the younger vampire. "And he still tastes of his silly, sickly mummy."

"Sod off, Dru."

"Shan't. Daddy says we must play." Angelus graced her with a soft kiss for her obedience and walked off to find his queen. William sighed.

"Get on with it then, Dru. I don't have all day."

Drusilla smiled and knelt next to her "sibling." Trailing a lazy hand down his thigh she chanted, "Stars hum, round and round in big circles. Can you hear them, Will? Can you hear them hum?"

"No, Dru. I can't hear the bloody stars hum. No one can hear them but you."

Drusilla frowned. "Daddy says you mustn't swear."

"Daddy isn't here."

Drusilla pouted for a moment, before taking little William's hand in her own and pulling him roughly to his feet. She pecked his cheek and leaned forward, her lips brushing against the lobe of his ear as she whispered conspiratorially, "I have a secret."

In a sudden rise of interest, Will's eyes lit up.

"Do you?" he whispered back; nuzzling his nose against her slender, white neck. "Do tell, Dru."

"You mustn't be loud, little Will. You must be quiet as a little mouse."

"I won't be loud, Dru."

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're loud sometimes. You make indecent noises. And if you're a loud little mouse, the owls will swoop down and have you for their supper."

"The owls won't swoop, Dru."

She studied him for another seemingly long moment before nodding, "I suppose you'll do." Will stifled a groan. Sometimes Drusilla was insatiable.

She tugged his hand and led him forward, out of the room and into the feeble excuse for a kitchen, which had been, to Will's knowledge, previously untouched by their thorough massacre. Angelus had warned them against it, in fact. Will rolled his eyes, reminded of the ten-minute lecture he had received on the pros and cons of feeding from impoverished families. One of the cons had been the filthy state that the kitchen would undoubtedly be in, and seeing the rats and roaches scamper across the dirty floor, Will was sad to realize that the old man had been right. As always.

"We're not supposed to-"

"Hush, Little William," Drusilla hissed, pulling him to the small pantry door. "Open it slowly and look inside and don't make any noise."

"Or the owls will swoop?"

Drusilla nodded seriously. "The owls will swoop."

William opened the door.

Wide, frightened, human eyes stared back at him.

"Drusilla, what are you playing at?" he hissed. "If Angelus knew you were hiding a human..."

"I want a pet, Will. Don't you want a pet?"

William looked at her, puzzled. "Dru, Sire would probably let you keep a bird...or a bunny...or something. It'd die eventually anyway."

"It's not the same," Drusilla pouted, reaching a hand into the pantry and slicing into the soft skin with a nail. "He's a duchess."

"A duchess?" Will was even more confused. "Dru, I don't know if you realized, but..." he leaned in and whispered, "This one here's a bloke." He looked at the trembling, bound and gagged figured once more. "And he's poor."

Drusilla negated his thoughts with a shake of her dainty, little head. "He's a duchess of all things sweet and nice, like fruit and sweets." A ballet with her fingers along the slightly protruding belly. "Did you like your mummy? My Daddy shoved a butter knife through her head." She batted her lashes at him. "Now you may have no more toast and no more mummy." She paused and looked to William. "How do you think his mummy would taste on toast?"

"Sire said she was bitter with disease," William chirped, now smiling at the boy. "I bet you a few quid the toast would've evened her out."

Little tears of terror and sorrow seeped down the dirty cheeks.

"Can we keep him then, Will?"

"You know we'd never get this past the old man. I'm surprised he hasn't smelled him yet."

"Oh, but I did."

Will went ramrod straight at the chillingly soft voice.

"The owls have landed," Drusilla giggled.

The youngest vampire turned slowly, hands behind his back, toes aligned. "It's Drusilla's human, Sire. She just showed it to me." Angelus narrowed his eyes at his boy. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear."

Angelus smirked and took a step forward, examining the terror-stricken body inside the pantry. "Nicely restrained and gagged. You're right, William, you had absolutely nothing to do with this." He turned to his princess. "You may keep him for now, darling. But we'll have to put him out of our misery in a few days, understood?"

Drusilla clapped her hands and kissed her "daddy" on the cheek.

"As for you, my little tattletale..." Angelus trailed off, snatching a hold of William's ear.

"I didn't do anything, though!"

His sire chuckled; a cruel, cold, yet amused sound. "You don't have to do anything to deserve my attention, Childe." And then more kindly, "You'll like it in the end. You always do." Then something akin to affectionate, "My pretty little bloody boy."

"You swore," Will pointed out weakly.

Angelus raised an eyebrow. "I didn't swear, Will. I'm really going to make you bleed."

Will pouted. "Oh." Then favored his sire with a cheeky grin. "Bloody Hell."

The figure in the pantry moaned through his gag, but Drusilla shushed him with a finger to his lips. "Daddy, the Duchess is fast becoming restless. We must take him home and serve him cakes and tea and oh!" She smiled brightly, as if just hit by a sudden revelation. "You must meet Miss Edith. She's always wanted to meet a Duchess." Daddy didn't respond. "Daddy?" Drusilla turned. "Oh."

She folded her arms and stamped her foot. Then, realizing it was all to no avail, sighed.

"William gets all the fun."

Taking the Duchess by the hand, the neglected little princess led her new pet out of the room.

William got all the fun. She wished Daddy would stick his tongue down _her_ throat more often.

* * *

**TBC...**


End file.
